Happy Drunken Birthday
by First of the Geeks
Summary: It’s Pippa Rightwing’s birthday, and while she should be celebrating it with her friends, she’s drunk in an empty classroom feeling sorry for herself. And then comes Sirius. Oneshot.


Pippa Rightwing was feeling sorry for herself.

It didn't seem to be enough that she was practically freezing, or that she feared she might be drunk, or even that her mother had a strange fixation with the size of her breasts.

Oh no. Now it appeared that she was falling rather helplessly in love with her biggest enemy, Sirius Black.

Well, alright. He wasn't her biggest enemy –that spot was filled by the horrible Rowania Foxkithia- but he was still her biggest… _something_.

He had stared up her _skirt._

If that didn't count for him being her biggest something, then she wasn't sure what did. Because someone staring up one's skirt made you at least _something_ in said person's book, and that book was getting published and getting published was a big deal and many people were going to want to read the book and um… reading was good.

…

But really, that didn't matter. Because today was her birthday and she was supposed to be feeling happy and receiving presents and spending time with her friends and doing all sorts of lovely birthday-y types of things.

But instead she was sitting all alone in her Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, in the middle of the night, drinking enough Butterbeer to make even the groundkeeper get a little bit tipsy.

And it was all because he had called her beautiful.

…

Seriously. That's all he said. Three little words and she was reduced to the hyper, whiny fangirls that she detested so much. The ones that stalked him in the hallways to see if he might possibly drop one of his quills and then snuck into his room later on under the pretense of returning it when really all they wanted was to pinch a pair of his underwear.

Although it was inevitable, she supposed, and took another swill of Butterbeer. It wasn't like a girl could spend so much time in a boy's presence and _not_ become absolutely infatuated with him.

Unless, of course, said boy was really a thestral, and a relationship between them was absolutely impossibly because of his scales.

…

Did thestrals even have scales?

…

And it wasn't so much the fact that he was absolutely gorgeous with that perfect body and handsome face. It was more the boy _behind_ the gorgeous face, the one that wasn't afraid to be his own person, the outrageously intelligent one, the one with the somewhat distorted view on life.

And those eyes! Those stupid, striking, dizzying eyes didn't help one bit, because the eyes were the windows to the soul and they showed you the true person within and all that rot, and the person within was so… _lovely_ that it was just so hard not to get completely lost in them.

Couple those amazing eyes with the words, "You look beautiful," and any girl would be a goner.

And she was proving herself to be just like the others. A total and complete goner.

…

And so her life sucked.

Because although he had called her beautiful and they had shared a couple of kisses here and there and they had started up a begrudging friendship – that's what that _something_ was- she had already had her chance and she had blown it.

Big time.

If only she hadn't been so blind in the beginning. If only she had seen what a sweet, caring, amazing boy he was sooner. If only she hadn't been too caught up in herself and all of her stupid, neurotic tendencies. If only she had given him a _chance_.

…

Although it probably wouldn't have worked out, because he was amazing and she was just ickle Pippa Rightwing, and she could never hold such a glorious boy's attention for long.

Just look at where she was at now. He _used_ to be interested in her –probably just surprised and amused at such an idiot creature- and now he wasn't and it was all just so _sad_, because she had messed things up all on her own, just by being her same oblivious, self-centered self.

Dammit, she _sucked._

It was no wonder why he wasn't professing his undying love for her.

_She_ certainly wouldn't profess her undying love for herself, and she _was _herself.

You know, besides the fact that you couldn't love yourself.

…

Well, actually, you _could_, but that was just too disgusting a thing to think about, even when completely smashed.

She'd read that book he'd given her –yes, she was finally admitting it-, she'd seen and understood –well, kind of- what the ins and outs were.

…

She also realized what a horrible, disgusting pun she just made.

To punish herself, she was going to finish this bottle of Butterbeer.

And then start on that other one, because it was looking sad and lonely, and she was sad and lonely too, and sad and lonely things should stick together, even if one was just going to drink the other.

She was going to drink this Butterbeer and not think of the person that made her want to drink Butterbeer, because then she was going to want _more_, and she only had this last bottle left.

And she didn't want to go back to the Gryffindor Common Room to get any more, because a) she didn't think she could walk, b) she might get caught and get even _more_ detention (it seemed like that was all her spare time was, nowadays) and c) because _he_ might be there still, and she didn't feel like embarrassing herself in front of him anymore.

Pippa popped open the bottle and then giggled at the sound it made.

And then continued giggling so hard that she almost fell off of the desk she was perched on. "Whoopsies," she said, and then started kicking her dangling legs, trying to go for serious, introspective Pippa.

And then started giggling all over again, because she didn't think she could help it. Pretty soon she found herself rolling on the floor, laughing so hard she was crying.

And then the door opened to reveal one very harried looking Sirius Black.

"_There_ you are," he said, rushing towards her. "I've been looking all over the school for you. Lily says it's time to open presents and…" He trailed off, taking in the disheveled Pippa and the bottles strewn about her.

She hiccupped in his general direction.

It was quiet for a moment while they looked at each other before he finally asked, "Are you, by any chance, drunk?" Her only response was a hiccup, and he sighed. "I'll take that as a yes." Then he sat down next to her, stretching his long legs out in front of him.

She made eyes at him, and looked so charmingly bewildered that he wanted to pull her up to him and inside of him and never let her go.

But she wouldn't appreciate that –she'd made that clear on more than one occasion- so he just sat next to her in the silence.

…

He'd never been very good with silences. They always made him want to make noise.

He wanted to make noise with her right now.

…

But again, she wouldn't appreciate a quick nookie session with him in an abandoned classroom. She would want it to be in a soft bed with candles and music and most of all _commitment_, and for the first time that's what he wanted too.

It was just too bad that the girl he wanted to commit to wasn't interested.

At the beginning of this infatuation turned more he thought that's why he wanted her. She was so completely different than the other girls he'd known, totally indifferent to him and his pursuit of her, that he couldn't help but be attracted to her. But soon it became less about that and more about her. About the way she seemed frazzled when she wrote in that stupid diary of hers, the way she'd laugh and smile with Lily and Sofia, about the lost expression she seemed to have when she was by herself.

Oh, how he wanted to make that lost look of hers go away.

Oh, how he wanted to be the reason _why_ that lost look went away.

But she was Pippa and he was Sirius and she wanted nothing to do with him.

At least, she wanted nothing to do with him in _that_ regard. She was certainly fine with being friends with him –and he was fine with that too, because at least he got to be around her- but she wanted nothing to do with the attraction that simmered between the two of them.

And it was there. They'd shared looks together, kisses together. He wasn't delusional enough to make this up. There was something there between them, and he hated her just a little bit for not even trying to see what it was or where it could go. And also for making him care for her so much.

And even then, he hated her only a little bit, because he was a better person for knowing her.

Even if she was a nutty old bird with a penchant for getting herself mixed up in crazy situations.

Like the one they were currently it.

They were sitting together in the darkened Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, in the middle of the night, surrounded by empty Butterbeer bottles (how much did she _drink_?). If they were caught, it was enough to get them detention for months.

But he would willingly work in the library with her again, if only to-

She started toying with his hand, and he stopped breathing.

"Hmm," she slurred faintly, and he felt her warm breath on his palm. "You have big hands."

He managed only an, "I'm tall," before she pressed her small hand against his, palm to palm. She stared at it for a moment before giving him a lopsided grin. "Look Sirius, I have hands too!"

And then she moved closer to him and nuzzled her head into his shoulder. _She's drunk Sirius_, he thought, and started conjugating verbs to keep from lunging at her mouth. _Drunk, drink, drank, drinking, will drink…_

"You smell good," she muttered, and scooted even closer to him on the floor. "And I'm cold."

_Oh, Merlin_. "I guess it's my civic duty to make the birthday girl happy," he muttered, and was thankful that his voice didn't crack. After a moment he draped his arm around her small shoulders, pulling her to him.

He was content like this, sitting on the cold floor in a darkened classroom with her nestled next to him. This was enough. He could live with this.

And then she wrapped her arm around his waist, and buried her face against his neck. "You smell like books. I like books." He felt her lips brush against him when she talked. "I even read that book you gave to me. It had some interesting pictures."

Sirius groaned, and tried in vain to banish thoughts of the Kama Sutra and Pippa from his head. _THINK OF PESTILENCE! BOILS! FAMINE! SNAPE AND MCGONAGALL NAKED!_

"I'm still cold," she said, and crawled into his lap. "And you're not doing a very good job of warming me up." She wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Pippa," he tried to say warningly, but he just ended up sounding panicky. His clothes suddenly felt tight and itchy, and he didn't know where to put his hands. Sirius Black had a girl in his lap and he didn't know where to put his hands. _Bloody Hell._

She started giggling all over again, and he felt her lips graze his ear. "Do you remember the Bucking Donkey? I remember it. 'Cause you told me to read that one page, Pucker-up Princess and I read the Bucking Donkey instead and heeeeey, I just realized we're in that position! Hey, Sirius! Do you member the Bucking Donkey?"

She was torturing him. He was sure of it. She may be drunk and slurring her words, but she _knew_ what she was doing. His sweet little Pippa _had_ to realize what she was doing.

Otherwise he was going to feel like a cad when he finally gave in.

"I would think you would have to be drunk like me to not remember. But wait, I _do _remember! So you do too!" She wiggled on his lap, presumably to snuggle even closer. Suddenly her expression changed. "Hey Sirius, can I ask you something?"

He closed his eyes and tried not to think of the girl on his lap. "Mmhmm," he agreed, sounding pained.

She looked him in the eye for the first time in a long time and wiggled on him once more. "Is that a wand in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?"

What happened next was not his fault.

In one moment Pippa was sitting quite happily on Sirius' lap, and the next she found herself on her back with said Sirius Black looming over her. She grinned at him, but he did not smile back.

"Dammit Pippa, you can't _do_ things like that. It gives guy's ideas, when they've already got ideas in the first place. And so they think they can _act_ on these ideas, when any respectable boy knows he can't do that sort of thing with you, because-"

"Because I'm stupid, insane, neurotic Pippa Rightwing?" she finished quietly, sounding completely sober.

"_No,_" he breathed and nuzzled her ear. "You're completely perfect. No one can do stuff with you because you're perfect and no one is good enough for you, least of all the non-respectable types."

She blinked up at him owlishly. "Are you one of the respectable ones?"

He laughed bitterly and shook his head. "I'm the least respectable one of them all."

"Then I want a non-respectable type. I want to pick who I get."

And then she rose up on her elbows and kissed him.

He tried to fight it. She was drunk and saying things that she didn't mean and would come to regret, but he couldn't push her away, not when she was kissing him like her entire heart was in it. Pippa felt him surrender and smiled against his lips. "And I pick you," she finished, and then kissed him again.

And it was the single most perfect kiss either of them had ever had.

Despite the fact that she passed out soon after it was finished.

And was too hung over in the morning to remember.

(At least until he showed her the hickeys on their necks.)

* * *

**The (Happy) End.

* * *

**

**Disclaimer:** I am no J.K Rowling. Sadly.

**Author's Notes:** So this was just something I decided to put up for my friend Amy's birthday. I hope she likes it 'cause I like her and hope her fifteenth year is as great as a fifteenth year can be. So, um… HURRAH!

By the way, if you have somehow just stumble upon this, this is a companion piece to my fic **Diary of a Siriusly Skewed Individual**. Which explains the randomness of some references.

But anyway. This is random and I wrote it pretty quickly, but it's like two in the morning so I want to go to sleep and dream of… something entertaining. Like a shirtless (maybe naked) English boy. 'Cause they're hot.

So I leave you with his quickly ended companion piece that hopefully made you laugh and… um… realize that people go through a giant range of emotions when they're drunk. (I've seen this happen. I know this is true.) So if you think that Pippa was all like, "Roar, I'm emo!" and then was all like, "Roar, I'm a slut!" then I must say… that's kind of what she was like, because she had downed several Butterbeer, and he inhibitions were low. And she wanted some Sirius action –pah! Pun!- and she got it the only way she knew how.

Through drunken hobagness.

I LOVE YOU AMY!

**-Melissa**


End file.
